Thursday, August 31, 2017

FFB: A Delivery of Furies by Victor Canning

The adventure novels of Victor Canning are the kinds of books I grew up reading. But I don’t remember ever cracking open one of Canning’s books.

Then, while out of town, I found a 1964 Berkley Medallion paperback of Canning’s 1961 novel A Delivery of Furies in a used bookstore, for a price no one could resist – 25 cents.

A Delivery of Furies is the story of former Royal Air Force pilot Keith Marchant now living in South America and making money by taking on risky assignments from Barrau, a shady middleman. Sometimes the jobs reap big profits, sometimes things go bust, as happens at the beginning of the book when Marchant straggles home to his lodgings in a hotel with nothing – nothing except his life.

Marchant wants to quit this life, buy a friend’s small hotel on a Caribbean island, and live out his days in tropical ease with his girlfriend Drea. But to do that, he needs money. One big score would do it.

Barrau has one for him: Hijack a ship transporting fighter planes – the Furies of the title – and deliver the airplanes to a rebel group fighting for control of an island country. The rebels will pay him cash on delivery.

What could go wrong?

Plenty. Although some of the plot twists were pretty obvious. It is amazing the experienced Marchant could not foresee them. But Canning’s brisk writing speeds past those holes and plunges Marchant into more trouble. Along with first-person narrator Marchant, two other characters, Monk, a middle-aged former soldier who goes along on the job as Marchant’s right-hand man, and Parkes, a gruff engineer sent along by the aircraft company to supervise the assembly of the planes, are well drawn.

Canning’s writing style and his ability to keep the action moving is enjoyable, making A Delivery of Furies a fast, fun read.

(For more posts on books, check out Patti Abbott’s blog.)

Tuesday, August 29, 2017

Suspenseful film “Terror on a Train”

“Terror on a Train” is the terrible title of a tight thriller. In this 1953 film, Glenn Ford stars as a former army bomb disposal expert called in to take care of a device planted on a trainload of munitions.

Anytime anyone on screen has to defuse a bomb, the tension and suspense is always high. This plot has worked in any number of films from Michael Powell’s “The Small Back Room” in 1949 to Richard Lester’s “Juggernaut” in 1974 to Anthony Minghella’s “The English Patient” in 1996. It was even the plot of a British TV series from 1979 called “Danger UXB.”

In “Terror on a Train,” average-guy Ford is the only expert who can get to the targeted train in time to do the job. The former World War II service man is now settled into a suburban life in England with his volatile French wife. The subplot of the wife feels tacked on and adds nothing to the movie.

What works like crazy is seeing Ford arrive at a small village where the train has been sidetracked and realize he has only hours to find the detonator that will ignite half a dozen train cars loaded with undersea mines. The job is nearly impossible, but he tackles it – gently. Every bump could set off an explosion that would not only vaporize Ford and the train, but also a big hunk of the town.

This taught little 72-minute, black-and-white thriller was directed by Ted Tetzlaff, who four years earlier made the terrific suspense film, “The Window.”

If “Terror on a Train” shows up on cable, watch it. And don’t let the title turn you off. This is a good one.

(For more posts on movies, TV and more, check out Todd Mason’s blog.)

Saturday, August 26, 2017

Mystery “Wind River” is a Movie to See

Wildlife officer, Cory Lambert, discovers a young Native American woman dead in the snow, miles from anywhere on the Wind River Reservation. The girl is barefoot, appears badly beaten, and only her own tracks lead to her body. Lambert works with an inexperienced FBI agent and an older, Native American tribal police officer to find out what happened to the girl.

“Wind River” is a fine mystery with a serious theme of violence against Native women. The film was written and directed by Taylor Sheridan, who wrote the modern-day Western, “Hell or High Water,” my favorite film of 2016.

The acting, especially by Jeremy Renner in the lead and Gil Birmingham as the father of the dead girl, is way above average. Add to that the mountains, the snow, the homes and the people of the region and this a movie to see.

Catch it on the big screen.

Tuesday, August 15, 2017

Film Noir: Alias Nick Beal

The 1949 film noir, “Alias Nick Beal,” is a movie I waited decades to see again. This month, I got my chance thanks to a late-night showing on Turner Classic Movies.

Foster, an ambitious district attorney, lacking evidence to prosecute a slick racketeer, states aloud he would sell his soul to nail the guy. Right on cue, he receives a note to meet a mysterious and sinister man named Nick Beal who claims he can help.

Beal’s help is strictly illegal, but Foster gets the evidence he needs and never questions how Beal accomplished the impossible. Beal continues to help Foster win cases and eventually become governor. Before calling for the ultimate payment, Beal insists Foster appoint certain people to influential offices.

Foster is in too deep, but a close friend, a local pastor is on to the devil in disguise and steps in to help his friend.

Nick Beal is played by a quietly understated Ray Milland, who is usually the sophisticated lead, sometimes the comic hero. Foster is played by character actor Thomas Mitchell, who was Scarlet O’Hara’s father in “Gone with the Wind” and the drunken doctor in “Stagecoach.” The pastor is played by George Macready, who usually portrayed villains. Audrey Totter is a woman recruited by Beal to lead Foster astray, and Geraldine Wall is Foster’s strong, upstanding wife.

“Alias Nick Beal” plays out in deep shadow, fog and settings straight out of German Expressionism. A waterfront dive Beal uses as his meeting place with Foster is literally crooked, with a sloping floor, a bar angling downhill and cockeyed tables. The saloon, with its sketchy lighting, is as disorienting to the viewer as it is to Foster.

Director John Farrow displays some of the fluid camera work that made his 1948 film version of “The Big Clock” – also with Milland – so interesting. And the subtle, low key tone of the film adds to the mystery and menace.

“Alias Nick Beal” is well worth a look, and now that TCM has shown it, let’s hope it is not decades before it airs again.

Thursday, August 3, 2017

FFB: Prisoner of Zenda by Anthony Hope

Last month, Patti Abbott on her blog asked the question: What book has been on your to-be-read pile the longest?

For me, it had to be Anthony Hope’s 1894 novel, The Prisoner of Zenda. That one was on a shelf behind my desk for – I don’t know how long.

Last week, looking for a fun summer read, I took it down and gave it a try. It grabbed me right from the start and I sped through it in no time. That last is not hard to do. The paperback was 159 pages. The adventure tale was a pure pleasure as told by Hope in a brisk, exciting style. He kept the story moving on every page, and even had his first person narrator, Rudolf Rasendyll, apologize to the reader when he felt the need to provide a bit of background before pressing on with the action.

Rasendyll, an English gentleman, travels to the fictional kingdom of Ruritania, a small, German-speaking state, curious to see where a distant part of his family came from. Generations back, the then king of Ruritania visited Britain, had an affair with an English woman, and ever since an occasional descendant of the lady inherits the unmistakable looks of the Ruritanian royal family. Rudolf Rasendyll, inherited those looks, and once in the country, finds that he is a dead ringer for the new king.

By chance, English Rudolf meets King Rudolf and, delighted, the king invites him to dinner at his country lodge along with his faithful companions, a loyal old soldier, Colonel Sapt, and a young nobleman, Fritz von Tarlenheim. These two men are astonished by the identical looks of the two Rudolfs.

That night, the king’s evil half brother, Michael, springs a plot to seize the throne of Ruritania by kidnapping the king and holding him prisoner at his castle in the country’s region of Zenda. But Fritz and Sapt counter Michael by coaching English Rudolf and convincing him to impersonate the king until they can rescue royal Rudolf. These events send the adventure into high gear as Michael and his gang try to eliminate both Rudolfs. English Rudolf, is successful in his impersonation, and for weeks takes on the role of the king and does it well. But thrown together with the beautiful Princess Flavia – whom the king, through long arrangement, is to marry – Rudolf falls in love with her himself. Rudolf even considers remaining on the throne of Ruritania. But he is a high-minded Englishman, and his code of honor will not allow him to follow his heart. Instead, he carries out his task and risks his own life fighting to rescue the king.


Even though I knew the story well, having seen three movie versions of it – the 1922 silent, a 1952 MGM remake, and best of all, the 1937 David O. Selznick production – I still enjoyed the novel. Where the movies had to streamline the story, reducing the amount of action and behind the scenes intrigue, the novel was free to plunge Rudolf into many more situations.

Reading The Prisoner of Zenda, I found the time period a little hazy. The independent kingdom could have been one of the German states of the mid-19th century, before unification. But that is a minor point.

Another small point that intrigued me came at the beginning when Rudolf Rasendyll explains to his sister-in-law that he sees no need to work since his late father set him up with a comfortable annual income of £2,000. Wondering how much that would be in today’s U.S. dollars, I used some on-line conversion sites and figured £2,000 in 1894 would now be more than $265,000 a year.

The Prisoner of Zenda was the most enjoyable book I have read so far this summer, and I look forward to reading Anthony Hope’s sequel, Rupert of Hentzau.

(For more posts on books, check out Patti Abbott’s blog.)